She wondered what Darrin was doing tonight. Probably watching Charlie Rose or the Military Channel as he drank a martini and ate a microwave dinner. Safe. Peaceful. Well-paid. Comfortable.
Dull, the voice in the back of her head whispered. It was the same voice that forced her eyes to look up and see Rebel staring at her, the pain plain on his face. Deadly dull.
“I respect you more than any woman I’ve ever met.”
Oh, hell, she thought as another wave of nausea battered her stomach. His voice was quivering. He was on the verge of tears.
“I’ve never met a woman like you before. You came here willingly, you stay here willingly. This is a hard life, harder when you’ve given up what you did. But you’re still here.”
Darrin had never even tried to compliment her. Darrin had never tried to seduce her. And she sincerely doubted that Darrin had ever really trusted her. He respected the family name, but her? She couldn’t be sure.
She caught herself. This was not an either/or situation. No way was she going to let something like a sincere compliment break her, not before she broke him first. “I keep my promises. I promised my parents I’d do a little good in this world. I promised my profession to do no harm. I promised the tribal government I’d stay for two years. But I didn’t promise you anything, Rebel. Not a damn thing.”
He stared at her a while longer. A long while longer. And then she realized he wasn’t moving. No hips swaying, no heel tapping, no fingers drumming. Nothing.
“Rebel?”
Nothing.
“I had to learn how to see them,” he’d said in the river. “It took a lot of practice. I have to be patient and completely still.”
She didn’t know patient, but she could see the still. It was like watching a life-sized wax statue of the man. He didn’t blink. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
Breathing was important. Even if she never wanted to see him again, she thought it would be okay if he kept breathing. Independent of her involvement, of course. She edged closer. “Rebel?” And still nothing.
The wisp of panic did little to enhance the nausea as the second hand made a slow round of the clock. Did the man just slip into trances, all willy-nilly? About what? About her? She wasn’t even an Indian, for God’s sake. He looked more like he was having a petite mal seizure. He was just frozen.
And then, shaking his head, he crumpled back into the seat like so much dead weight.
“Rebel!” And she was practically vaulting over the table to get to him. Kneeling, she pressed one hand to his forehead and the other to his jugular. His pulse was racing and a thin sheen of sweat coated his head. “Stay with me, Rebel,” she pleaded. “Please.”
That second hand couldn’t move much slower, but it was less than a minute before he relaxed under her hands. “It’ll pass,” he finally muttered, slumping into her arms. “It always does.”
She didn’t want to hold him, didn’t want to comfort him, but she was unpleasantly relieved that he was considerably less freaked out by the whole thing that she was. She should be hoping he’d be miserable, hoping he’d really suffered for making her so crazy, but instead she was just glad to see a weak version of his know-it-all smile.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, but she must have scowled at him, because he shot her a sheepish look and added, “I think.”
“You think? I thought...” Hell, she didn’t know what to think right about now. But having a narcoleptic-style vision thing wasn’t something she could wrap her mind around.
“Yeah. Me too.” He nodded into her neck and draped his arms around her shoulders. “Just give me a minute.”
She gave him two before she broke the silence—and the hold he had on her. “What happened?” She pushed him back a little so she could look at his eyes, which wasn’t quite enough to get his hands off her shoulders. Just steadying him, she thought as she studied him. His pupils were completely dilated, but his pulse seemed to be settling back into a steady, normal rhythm. It’ll pass, indeed.
“It’s the cattle,” he said. No hesitation, no doubt. “I saw the sick cattle.”
“What sick cattle?”
“The ones with smallpox.”
“What, institutionalized eradication?” He nodded, which made his eyes flutter. Dizzy? “What does that have to do with—”
“The samples. They’re from a cattle-processing facility owned by a rancher on the edge of the rez.” Taking a deep breath, he ran a knuckle down her face. “The rancher that shot Nobody last month.”
“What? Rebel, I don’t understand.”